Seas of Emerald
by Shahrezad1
Summary: Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he was of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. No, far better to go  mostly  Muggle. A Drastoria fanfic from a different direction.
1. Chapter 1

**Seas of Emerald**

By Shahrezad1

**Summary:** Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he _was_ of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. No, far better to go (mostly) Muggle. A Drastoria fanfic from a different direction.

**Disclaimer:** A-Draco went a-courtin', he found a lady Green, he was so happy for her, he made her Malfoy Queen. But J.K. owns the story, I canna claim but naught, if I did the court would catch me; my money tied in knots.

(A horrible poem, but you get the idea. XD )

~/~/~

Chapter 1

He hesitated before pulling the leather jacket on. It was an elegant thing, and hardly worn, but entirely Muggle in design and make. Something that he had been gifted as a present from some relative that his parents had forbidden him from speaking to ever again, a few years back. Yet for some reason he'd kept the thing, despite it all. And even now he wondered if what he was daring was much like the jacket: forbidden. Unheard of in his family of purebloods and aristocrats. Or perhaps it was just the next step in a long string of failures for him.

Draco Malfoy. Runaway.

Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he _was_ of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. In fact, there would be plenty of people that would cheer over his sudden disappearance, which made him wish all the more that he was already gone. And he was certain that no one would care. Whether it be schoolfellow or distant relation.

Except for…

Well, his mother.

It would break her heart. But he had no choice in the matter. The only thing left to do was start over completely, and while the magical community in Switzerland was one heady option, it still existed within the realm of the Wizarding world; he couldn't hide there forever.

Meaning that there was only one thing that he could do: go Muggle.

It seemed simple enough, regardless of the social blasphemy that it represented. He'd read a few novels to familiarize himself with specific key phrases and objects, although he still didn't know what fish and chips were, nor a lorry. But he figured that he would find out soon enough. And he'd taken a sizeable portion of his inheritance and had had it exchanged for Muggle money the last time he'd visited Gringotts, which should get him through things until he either found a job or ran home with his tail between his legs. Whichever came first.

Hopefully it would be the former rather than the latter.

All the rest had been prepared by his personal house elf, Reny. The diminutive creature had been by his side since he was in nappies, and had been silent as the grave for most of it. One had to be to work for a family of Death Eaters. And thus he was the best individual to pack and organize for him, with Draco knowing that he would never speak a word of it to anyone. Not even to the other house elves.

In went his entire wardrobe, the trunk gaining width and depth the further you walked down into it (using its literal steps), along with anything he thought fit for taking with him (cauldron, essential books, and floo powder). He didn't have a wand yet, but somehow he couldn't find it within himself to get a new one.

What kind of wand would accept him the way he was? Damaged, hurting, unworthy of bearing the traditional Wizard's tool?

No, far better to go (mostly) Muggle.

Despite the fact that the part of him that he had been for the past twenty-two years of his life was protesting. Loudly. Screaming, in fact, in high decibels that sounded much like the tones he'd used against Potter and his groupies.

But he wanted a clean slate, and there could be no cleaner one than this.

~/~/~

Reny had dropped him off where he had asked, looking concerned but saying nothing of the emotion. Then the magical creature had disappeared without a trace, leaving him there on the outskirts of town.

The combination pub and inn he approached was unmarked, its sign long ago weathered away. And that was part of why he had chosen the place—it was fairly disconnected from society and the big cities, but prone to the barmy tourist and lone traveler. A port in the storm, it was, and a small landmark on the map. Lanconshire. Village of crumbling ruins and complete seclusion.

Or as complete as he was going to get, anyway. And in the meanwhile let them think that he was just a crazy Londoner, setting his sights on making his way in the world in this tiny bit of map.

A light drizzle started and Draco pulled his jacket tighter about him, then girded his loins and walked in. At this time of night it should have been dead, but there was a fair crowd of bachelors and strangers, mostly male. In his dark clothing and with his unremarkable appearance—thin form, bruised-looking eyes, defeated look of exhaustion—he looked similar to the rest of them, and for that he applauded his choice.

No one would care about his arrival, at least unto sunup when the tongues would be set wagging. But for now it was a reprieve—these people didn't know him and couldn't know what he had done. And that was enough.

Draco tried to appear nonchalant as he approached the counter; a barman and probably the pub landlord stood there, watching. His shoulders so still and set that they could have been mountains. But his hands were ever-busy cleaning glasses, so much like Tom of the Leaky Cauldron that that small amount of familiarity gave him some relief, helping him speak to the man with ease.

"I would like to rent a room, for the night at least if not longer. Would this be enough to cover it?" Draco began quietly, setting his trunk down carefully for fear of its interior contents and then slipping a small stack of notes on the counter. The man merely watched him a moment before finally looking at the bills. His brows shot up and he gaped. But only when the glass was planted firmly on the counter did the Wizard allows himself to breathe.

Then the barman slowly nodded. He knew more than anyone that he wouldn't want to lose a customer like this, Draco read easily on his face, but it would be with some wariness, "Aye, you're in luck. We've had some tourists book, so we were full up tonight. But lucky for you one of the blokes was feeling rotten and let it go. Let me have a look and see as to the state of it. You look knackered, and would best wish for a lay down I'm guessing."

Relief washed through him. Draco nodded openly and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, "yes. I would like to go to sleep as soon as I can. Thank you. It _has_ been a long trip."

The barman nodded and left, leaving him to his own thoughts. Which were simple and straightforward, breaking through the fog of his lifelong confusion like a lighthouse in the harbor.

Yes, this was where he needed to be. The middle of nowhere, true, but the best place to shield himself from all that was magical.

~/~/~

**Author Note:** Lancashire does, in fact, exist. Lanconshire does not. Lanconshire is an invented town, not at all similar to Lancashire, so that I can create somewhere for Draco to hide out at without having to worry about geography or getting details wrong. I was intending for him to be "visiting" Wiltshire, the Muggle community near where the Malfoy Manor is, but I thought that this would be more fun. ;) Plus now I don't have to figure out where things are in relation to Stonehenge…

The time frame for this is about 2003, as Scorpius was born in 2006. Meaning that his parents had to have married at least in 2005, which would have made them 24 and 22 at the time of marriage, respectively. And I've created a bit of a buffer, time-wise, for them to get to know one another and do a bit of courting; say about two years. Draco will be 22 and Astoria 20, and the year is 2003. Yay! :D

My roommate (aka Editor) said in passing that this was fairly good, but just in case if you can see any mistakes in details or grammar please let me know so that I can fix them. I'm going to try and make this as much of a foreign experience for Draco as I possibly can, so this should be fun. XD

And I'm posting this before I can have second thoughts…


	2. Chapter 2

**Seas of Emerald**

By Shahrezad1

**Summary:** Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he _was_ of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. No, far better to go (mostly) Muggle. A Drastoria fanfic from a different direction.

**Disclaimer:** A-Draco went a-courtin', he found a lady Green, he was so happy for her, he made her Malfoy Queen. But J.K. owns the story, I canna claim but naught, if I did the court would catch me; my money tied in knots.

(A horrible poem, but you get the idea. XD )

~/~/~

Chapter 2

She awoke with the scent of herbs and the clean, crisp fragrance of growing plants in her senses. That wasn't altogether surprising, situated as she was in a cottage of her own next to a greenhouse that was hers and hers alone. But the aromatic welcoming was stronger than usual, as though the world was indicating that something special would be happening today. Life changing, even.

Calling out a grateful, if silent, thank you to the heavens, she slipped into her usual trousers, jumper and gardening gloves among the dawn's buttery light. It was as smooth as cream and as sweet as marmalade, highlighting the smattering of farm machinery she could see out in the fields and already hard at work. And echoing the electric lights being switched off within shop windows down the lane, one at a time until the morning sun would fully take over.

It was this kind of life that she lived for. The simplicity of it and the sheer joy of doing a job and knowing that it is well and truly done. Astoria smiled warmly as she took in one last, full glance, then entered the domed building with its frosted glass to start on her usual morning routine. She watered the plants that needed repeated watering, then made sure that those which only required moisture had not received too much or developed fungus. Hummus was added where needed.

Grateful as always for the magical aspect of the building, she wordlessly indicated that the glass let a little more morning sunlight in—but not the present chill of morning dew. It had rained a bit last night, and it wouldn't do to expose anything to the cold too soon. And then she was off to check the _other half_ of the greenhouse, with its varying needs and mewling cries. Meat was provided where it was required from a portable ice box that she filled once a week, and other more magical support was made for plants that needed increased care.

It was the least she could do with plants that were out of their element; Magical beings of root and leaf that would soon be harvested and transported to buyers in Diagon Alley and elsewhere. Hidden behind layers of spells so that the interior of the greenhouse would not seem to be larger than it was, and so that her other occupation could be hidden in peace. A building detail which was supported by the existence of an office/ supply closet between the two rooms, the doorway to the latter hidden from view.

Then she was back home and changing into something more suitable for town and her usual round of deliveries. Into her truck she discreetly levitated two bushels of vegetables for the grocer and the local inn, "Darby's Place." And then in went another batch of this month's perennials for "The Galley Rose." What few tourists they received seemed to appreciate the buds, and flowers made the storefronts look cheerier despite the dim threatening of autumn on the horizon.

Her colorful knee-length sundress reflected this optimistic outlook, paired with a cream cardigan for the slight morning chill. Then up went her coal-black hair, wavy not-quite-curls messily tucked into a pair of mahogany chopsticks. One of which was really her wand, had anyone taken the time to notice.

No makeup, no beauty charms, no jewelry. That was and always had been the way to go, a detail that had made both her sister and mother sigh. But her father had only ever smiled.

And then Astoria was ready.

Climbing in the contraption, she held her breath as she always did when she turned the thing on. It was half in fascination and half in terror that she drove the auto, but she'd gotten to the point where it didn't take her much time to start the monster and get it going. Although townsfolk joked that they always knew when she was coming—no one else drove that slow, neither villagers nor tourists. It was a well and good thing that they lived as far into the country as they did for that fact alone. Otherwise she might cause an accident with her over-caution.

On down the road she went.

The drive was fairly short, as she was no mean distance from Lanconshire's main thoroughfare, but it still allowed herself a moment to collect herself. Then, with the sun full up, Astoria made her deliveries. Oh, it was mostly barter out here in the country. She was paid a small, unnecessary sum (she had no rent to pay, grew most of her own food, and had be-spelled her clothing to last a long time and resist wear and tear), to help with utilities and power usage. And mostly to keep the townspeople from wondering too much about her means of support. But all the rest came in small presents, pressed into her hand at the last minute or discovered in her truck when she turned to leave.

If she didn't know any better she would almost take it as the kind of tribute people used to leave for elves and the like. But she was nothing like the magical creatures that she'd grown up learning about in books and having seen in the Forbidden Forest.

Then it was her last stop; her _usual_ stop at the local public house and inn. There her exchange would be met with breakfast, her one meal of meat and hot food that she didn't have to cook herself, magical or otherwise. Any other meals she chose to take there would require payment, but the first was completely on the house. And after a full morning of daily chores and essential tasks, it was nice to take advantage of the respite.

"Morning," she called cheerily at the bar in an optimistic reflection of habit, and waited for a coming response. Which could, of course, come from any number of people. Gerald, the pub landlord, watched the place at night and acted as both head of the house and bruiser should a man or woman need tossing. During the day it was his wife's domain, a cheery lady with apple cheeks named Lily who set the place up as a regular bed and breakfast. But when Lily was occupied with the kitchen it was teenage Madeline that ran the register, both of her brothers away at University.

Although the distance never stopped them from flirting outrageously with Astoria when they came home for breaks, never mind the fact that they knew they would be returning before the week was out. And life continued as though uninterrupted.

Madeline came to the front, auburn hair pulled back in dual braids. Despite the small stud in the side of her nose she still had the village look about her, from her sturdy trousers and bleached apron to the rolled up sleeves of her blouse. A bit of flour smudged her nose as though she'd been finishing up the morning baking with her mother before Astoria interrupted, but Maddie went about like that often enough that she didn't much care.

Particularly when she knew she was the one most likely to inherit the place.

"Tori," the ginger girl smiled and wiped her hands on her apron one more time, just in case, before clasping hands with the black-haired adult across the counter. Then she was busy taking the plastic milk crate from the latter girl's arms, "perfect timing. Mum's about to start on the luncheon preparations and is about ready to put together the soup course."

"What? At only eight in the morning?" Astoria asked, laughing, although they both knew that this was only empty prattle between the two of them. When the witch had moved to Lanconshire she'd been surprised by a variety of different habits that the people had here, the first of which being preparing everything well in advance. But by now she knew that if you weren't prepared early then you would never be. And the midday meal came sooner for some than others, not to mention the tea which was held in between.

"Pah. Eight isn't morning, you should know that by now," she girl grinned. Then her expression shifted ever-so slightly, "although some'n won't agree."

Ah. That's what she'd been looking for. News, gossip, what have you.

"Really?"

"Yep," Madeline nodded, crate perched on her hip, "we got a slug-a-bed around three in the morn.' Da threw him into the Rosey Suite."

That made Astoria's eyebrows jump, "the Rosey Suite? Was he a tourist, then, or a businessman?"

"Da doesn't know. But the man paid up full for well'n a month! And in our best rooms, too," she indicated her bafflement, "Da heard no car coming in, nor any sound at all until he walked in, easy as you please."

That sent a stone to her stomach. No car, huh? Well, she couldn't rule out everything yet. There were still a few other options besides magic.

"A hiker, then? Or a man on a bicycle?"

"A businessman, more like. Blonde hair and tired. He said he'd had a long trip," with that last tip Maddie left her to her usual table, moving behind the barrier wall to deposit Astoria's usual present. Then she went off to refill the tea in a couple of elderly ladies cups; they were retired, widowed farmwives, both of them, and rose and lived by the rising of the sun. Then she took some of Astoria's flowers and cut them neatly into small bouquets for the tables, a sunny tactic aimed at improving tips and increasing guest flow.

Meanwhile leaving Astoria to her thoughts.

That didn't last long.

~/~/~

AN: Sort of a cliffhanger. Well, not really. *laughs*


	3. Chapter 3

**Seas of Emerald**

By Shahrezad1

**Summary:** Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he _was_ of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. No, far better to go (mostly) Muggle. A Drastoria fanfic from a different direction.

**Disclaimer:** A-Draco went a-courtin', he found a lady Green, he was so happy for her, he made her Malfoy Queen. But J.K. owns the story, I canna claim but naught, if I did the court would catch me; my money tied in knots.

(A horrible poem, but you get the idea. XD )

~/~/~

Chapter 3

Raucous noise awoke the young wizard from his, admittedly fitful sleep. And of a kind that he'd not heard for several years; the distant rumble of immature roughhousing and cries of competition. No, the past five years of his life had been devoted to near-silence, since his leave-taking from Hogwarts. So the return of such familiar sounds disturbed him. And then, much like he always had, Draco awoke immediately.

There are some that slowly come awake and some that seem in a daze for the first hour of the morning, but he was of the kind that answered the day with complete wakefulness and a full memory of the events from the night before.

Some of which had been positive, and others slightly…unpleasant.

There had been his arrival, then acceptance. The pub owner had lead him to a room via a mechanized torch, a Muggle artifact he'd taught himself to recognize, and then the lights had turned on via a switch of some sort (he would have to test it out later and see how it worked).

It was paltry fare, the bed-and-bath suite that they had provided him with, but the man had waved him in with such expectation that he had had to stomach his displeasure and accept with feigned gratitude. And then with a grimace of distaste he'd closeted himself within his torture chamber.

Surrounded by roses. Cursed climbing roses in pale pink, wallpapered around him as though ready to swarm. And sewn in tiny little grandmotherly displays upon the material adorning the small settee, the bedclothes, and the curtains. Even the long plush rug was woven into a rose pattern, blossoming as though residing in full daylight.

Draco sneered once, before taking himself in hand.

No. That was what the _Old Draco_ would have done, he thought, unconsciously turning the description into a title. Not the New Draco. The New Draco was surrounded by Muggles, and _village_ Muggles at that. He would have to base his reactions on this new information, from now on.

After all, this was his lot now; he'd chosen it. So he'd best get used to it. In the meanwhile, he could always turn the coverlet over to hide the pattern, pull down the curtains of the four-poster and live in darkness for the sake of his sanity. And it wasn't as though he would be pondering the state of his soul in rooms like these. No, that could be done in the pub downstairs; a domicile of manliness and neutrality, with a glass of something strong in his hand. And from there he could hopefully rent or purchase a place of his own. To—

To do what? Sell potions to locals as love spells and to be rid of boils? Teach their country children how to properly waltz or improve their penmanship? All the skills that his parents and even Hogwarts had put so much stock in now seemed purposeless. And really, what did he know about what Muggles did for a living, outside of being…well, Muggles? Living like pigs without magic or function. BUT that didn't mean that they _were_ pigs, he had hastily amended in his head. Human beings. They were human beings, just as Wizards and Witches were. And had their scientific advancements to match all that could be done by magic.

Still, he was reminded at that moment that perhaps he'd not thought the situation out as much as he had believed that he had. But there was always room for brainstorming in the morning.

And with that slight epiphany he'd went to bed.

Only to be awakened by cacophony.

Draco scowled and once again forgot who he had been, what he had done, and the type of person he was now trying to learn to be in the face of immediate irritation. Impulsively he reached to the bed stand for his wand only to remember, belatedly, that he didn't have one. And that he hadn't had one for half a decade now. It was a habit he'd been long trying to break, only to fail at it time and again. Now, as always, the action resulted in a momentary pang, which Draco tried to shove aside.

Then he returned to solving his immediate problem. He'd fallen asleep in the clothes he'd come in, so changing into something new for the purpose of telling someone off simply required a different shirt and running a hand through his hair. House slippers and a robe were provided by the door, but he ignored both in favor of his own familiar shoes, tucking his shirt in as he went. Then he continued on his way to confront the actions of those other guests which had disturbed him.

Hallways that had been black as pitch were now cheerfully lighted with morning sun to reveal warm, golden-brown floorboards and light blue paisley paper. There were six doors, other than his own, each with its own nameplate, and he supposed that for a building this size that that was rather a lot. With his suite being the largest, at the end of the long hallway.

Perhaps the money that he had given the man had been more than he'd estimated. Draco reminded himself to double-check his references once he returned to his rooms.

And then down the sturdy winding stair he went, the sides as wide as a broom closet before they landed him neatly by the bar. And looking at a crowd of males surrounding one small figure.

The men where of varying heights, from short and round to thin and wiry. But the one that was the loudest was the biggest of the lot, and sparked a feeling of remembrance in Draco.

So THIS was the disturber of his peace. The obnoxious prat who'd shouted his way down Draco's restful hallway. And it seemed as though he was a disturber in more than one way.

The small figure surrounded by the males seemed to be a lone female, dark haired and simply dressed. Unlike the barmaid, however, she was wearing a colorful outfit that was akin to a male target; skirts that revealed from ankle to knee, though not higher. And hair pulled messily up with some sort of stick device that women seemed to be able to understand the use of.

The red-haired barmaid was currently threatening the man off without any effect, and in the background he could only see four other women: two elderly matrons and two women that appeared to have been traveling with the men, looking both embarrassed and desperate. No gentlemen in sight. Which left only him.

Still in high dudgeon over his own affront, this was doubly the impetus needed for him to make his way forward and offer his…services. And hopefully it would put him in good graces with the proprietor's serving maid. He was also grateful that he'd chosen the shoes and not the slippers to come down in.

"So I say, why don't you show us around, sweetheart? The guide guy has been giving us the 'Ruined' tour, but we'd love to see what really blossoms around here," it was an American voice that rose above the knot of bodies as the burly one by now had his arm around her chair, trying his best to persuade the local girl. But she was already pulling away in irritation, and seemed to be fixing her hair rather deliberately.

His three crony friends snickered at this while the set of tourist females in the back looked on despairingly, the black haired one hiding her face in her hand while the brown-haired one deliberated on interfering further. They both expected to be thrown out along with their compatriots, he could tell.

That's when Draco stepped in.

"I'm afraid she won't be able to, as she's already promised a day with me. Haven't you, darling?" he announced in his smoothest voice, earning everyone's attention at once. Including the damsel in distress. Who seemed just as shocked as the rest, only with eyes which widened far larger than they should have in the situation. She should be looking at him in gratitude, desperation even. Not shock and familiari—

Draco paused his thoughts. Collected them. Examined what and who was before him. Realized that he recognized the iconographic blue-green eyes (with an emphasis on _green_), if not the form of the features. Came to the correct conclusion, then mentally swore.

Blast.

She knew who he was. And what's more, _he_ recognized _her._

_BUT FROM WHERE? _He'd spent the last part of his life trying to separate from the first part, and now suddenly he thought he'd made a clean break only to…only to…!

Well, to place himself in a situation where he might accidentally get killed, and by a foreign Muggle at that. What would his father think?

The two of them tried to discretely stare, putting pieces together, but time stands still for no one. Not even former Death Eaters trying to run from their past. And in that time the man summed Draco up with his eyes, then sneered at what he found, "sure, pal, you can have your day with her. _Tomorrow._"

"I'm afraid not, seeing as she's my girlfriend and we'll be traveling on to announce our engagement to her parents the next town over," he lied smoothly if impulsively, removing his hands from his pockets and taking a step back in order to get into fighting form, fingers loosely unclenched. Grey eyes coolly examined their opponent and found him wanting. But first, to insult the swot, "So sorry. Perhaps I'll introduce you to her sister."

Ah. That was the right nerve. The girl jumped at the word, and that there was the connection. Now, if he could only figure out the name of the sister he might be saved! He swore he could see those green eyes peeking out from finer cheekbones, softer lips. Oh, she had to have been a Slytherin, otherwise he knew he would never have noticed at all. Probably why he didn't know this girl personally, he realized. Oh, well.

The bully was speaking again, "really? And seeing as you're engaged, you're sure to have given her a ring, right?"

"You mean this one?" the girl had slipped her hand underneath the table while they were talking and had taken her traditional Claddagh ring and switched it. The hands clasped around the heart were now facing an inward direction, and fitted to her right hand, as was appropriate of a hand-fasted woman before marriage. It was also set with a small Slytherin green emerald heart, which she allowed to glitter in case if the men still didn't make the connection.

Still the man persisted, scowling.

"Alright, if you know each other then what are your names?"

Bugger.

Her response was immediate and triumphant, with a ring of truth around it that stunned everyone present, including the barmaid, "Draco! Draco Ma-," she seemed to sense his flicker of horror and made a slight aberration, "Mumford."

"_Draco?"_ the American scoffed, but his fellows were looking at one another doubtfully now. And Draco heard one of them casually mention that it was no worse than some of the names they'd heard in their own country and, 'weren't British people crazy anyway?'

He nearly sneered at this, but it seemed the wrong time for that sort of reaction, so instead wracked his brain for an answer of his own. After all, now it was his turn. And all of them, including the girl, were waiting expectantly.

The emerald ring. He'd seen an emerald of that cut before. On a taller girl, with lighter hair. Light brown, in fact, without any waves to it. But the same sea blue-green eyes. He'd remembered her mentioning a younger sister in another house, by the name of—

"Astoria. Astoria Greeng—," he petered off as her look of approval abruptly cut off, taking his cues where he could. Ah, so it was just Green, then, in this disguise? Maybe he wasn't the only one to throw off the family name? But as soon as Draco halted the public house fell silent, a mixture of surprise, disappointment, suspense and relief warring for room. Even the barmaid seemed shocked for some reason, beyond his obvious guess.

And then the bully was pulling himself upright, tall and broad as a professional Quidditch player. And he wasn't happy with Draco right now, not at all. The man scowled, then without a care for the loss of their lodgings muttered two words to his friends.

"Get him."

~/~/~

AN: And here's where I laugh at my own stereotype, because the kind of American bully that I created is nothing like the guys that appear where I live, here in Utah. -laughs- Still, I enjoyed the creating of him and his flunkies, as a sort of counter-Draco, to show what Draco was in the past versus what he's trying to be now. His "first step," so to speak.

And as for the tourist/exchange student girls in the background, those would be a friend and I. I always promised her that she would appear in one of my Harry Potter fanfics (way back when I was seventeen and she was fourteen or fifteen), but I never actually got the chance to do it. And now that I've finally posted one I thought that maybe it was time to fulfill my bargain. So there you go, Ellice. :) Enjoy your brief run-in with Draco. ^^

A summary regarding Claddagh rings can be found here: http: / www . ehow . com / how _ 5993 _ wear – claddagh – ring . html (get rid of the spaces). I have a few friends of Scottish descent that wear them, and a few that wear them just for the romantic fun of it all. ~_^ They're a great way to tell a guy if you're available, and much easier than buying an expensive wedding band when it comes to marriage.

Also, Draco's curse words are meant to be as mild as possible. If they're not entirely so, blame me for being an American. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Seas of Emerald**

By Shahrezad1

**Summary:** Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he _was_ of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. No, far better to go (mostly) Muggle. A Drastoria fanfic from a different direction.

**Disclaimer:** A-Draco went a-courtin', he found a lady Green, he was so happy for her, he made her Malfoy Queen. But J.K. owns the story, I canna claim but naught, if I did the court would catch me; my money tied in knots.

(A horrible poem, but you get the idea. XD )

~/~/~

Chapter 4 Version 3.0

"I can do something for the ribs, but I suggest leaving the black eye," she stated with some dryness as she absently fingered the wand in her hair.

Draco looked up at her ironically from where he was trying to staunch the blood flowing from his nose, then spared a glance down at his once-pristine shirt with a expression that said that he was never going to get the stain out.

Which didn't quite make sense to her, possessing magic as he did, but she filed that little impression away for later. After all, being the snobbish git that he had been it was possible that he had never learned housewifery charms.

"And may I ask why?" he queried politely, but that civil inflection was only due to the sudden re-arrival of Madeline. She presented him with a free breakfast of thick country bacon, ham, oat porridge, buttered toast and a pot of tea, which he silently took as his due. And maybe it was, after his attempt at saving her. She wasn't quite sure yet, having known him and his attitudes from their youth.

But then again, maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she had, childhood persecution aside. Only time would tell. For now he seemed at a loss now that the battle was over…and he hadn't come up the victor. It was to their benefit, as their hosts merely assumed that he was reticent and not Muggle-phobic. But she thought that the emotion was doing Draco good—it had a humbling effect on him that she thought might be helpful in the long run, even though he might not see it at this moment.

Clearly, Astoria would have to see about finding out why a former Dark Wizard was up her neck of the woods…and doing good deeds.

Madeline left, blushing, and Draco absently tucked in to the meal.

Meanwhile Astoria's answer was practical, "It'll serve to spread the gossip further and remind the locals of the good that you did today. With some success."

Good which Madeline, Gerald, and even Lily had been witness to. The Americans' actions had enraged the pub owner, caring for Astoria as a daughter and knowing _just how much_ the mysterious blonde bloke was paying for a little 'peace.' Lily had become even more horrified in the knowledge that he and Astoria were actually schoolmates. Sort of. From that point on it had been a blur of motion and then sudden quiet. Lily had been the one to take stock of the damage and Draco had been given a clean dishrag to hold to his nose and then an icepack for his eye, which was amiably melting beside his plate. Now, at nearly ten, the early lunch crowd was trickling in. Leading Lily to remove them to a private table in the back, where they couldn't be heard.

Astoria, however, could pick out the repeated use of her own name by the hushed voices in the main room of the public house. And was trying hard to ignore it.

"And why would I want to do that?"

Back to the moment at hand. This topic of conversation he seemed interested in, but only in the half-attentive way that males were when they were presented with food. Despite the bruised knuckles, however, he held his mug of tea carefully. Genteelly. Like a true Malfoy would.

"Because you're trying to blend in with a closed village society, that's why. Although I'm not completely sure about that myself, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you explain the real reason to me, if I'm wrong? And in the meanwhile, you might want to explain what you're doing in Lanconshire instead of London. Much less coming to the aid of Witches in Distress," she folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, smiling blandly. She was immediately met with his trademark scowl. Ah, now _that_ was the little snot she remembered shoving her into walls and tormenting her at Hogwarts.

"I feel no need to divulge anything, _Miss Green—_."

"It's got an 'e' on the end now. Bear that in mind if you ever have to write it down," she interrupted sweetly, then partook of her own meal. The meal that those rough Americans had interrupted. Something which their delicate female companions had profusely apologized for, the poor girls.

_Those two_ had been allowed to finish up their stay by Gerald, who had appeared just as Draco had hit the floorboards. The rest were tossed out to find other lodgings. Their tour guide, a gruff mustached man from Leeds, had not been amused.

Draco huffed and cut another piece of ham, clearly taking the, 'whatever,' frame of mind to her question. And thus she repeated herself again. More kindly this time, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"Seriously, Malfoy. _What are you doing here?_ And I swear it better be on the up and up," her voice was half pleading, hope warring for control. Which seemed was the correct way to go about the situation, for he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. Then sighed.

Serious grey eyes met hers and she sat back in surprise, spooked by the image of ghostly sadness. Those were two terms she would have never used to describe the spiteful pureblood in his glory days. But something else reflected from their depths, as though he'd acknowledge a truth and had come to accept it. Whatever that truth seemed to be.

"I'm not here for…to start any mischief," he stated slowly, honestly, steeping his hands together in a delicate fold. The fingers were long and slim, like her fathers. Piano hands, made to be graceful and elegant in whatever task they were doing. But now they were very thin, as though the meat had been stripped from them in payment for his services to the Dark Lord. Services everyone had read about in the paper.

"And really, I didn't know you'd be here. I honestly chose the town at random, searching for some place as far away from ho—the city as possible," he looked tired as he said the words, "would you believe me if I said that I didn't even remember who you were when I first saw you? It's been that long…for me, anyway. And besides, all my old _'victims'_ tend to bur into one another after a while."

His chuckle was sad and a little desperate. And in it she found the iron thread of truth.

"On that…yes, I do believe you," she finally answered in a mutter, staring at her hands, "you never really saw my sister as an individual, much less me. So I doubt you'd remember pushing me. Or tripping me at Hogsmeade. Or making fun of me. Or pulling pranks just before Christmas every year. Or knocking me off my broom when I was practicing on the field and trying out for Quidditch. Or even that I bumped into you after the battle at Hogwarts, before you sat with your family."

He looked stricken and a tad guilty as she mentioned his many sins, but it was worst with the last. When that one came he swallowed painfully and nodded, looking away. Then Draco muttered quietly, almost to himself, "alright, then. If I've caused you that much trouble, then I'll leave." He stood as though to go, but froze under her touch. She'd placed a firm farm-handed grip on his bony wrist, stopping him. And it was as though that touch was a wakeup call. He stared at it, surprised. And Astoria half-wondered when it was that he'd last been touched at all in a kind, non-violent way. With fondness or even some semblance of affection.

"I never said you had to go. After all, that was years ago. I was just sliding a little 'just deserts' in there for old times. And you _did_ 'save' me. Although I probably could have taken them down myself with magic," she threw as a slight defense before softening, "still, if you're not up to any trouble…and you are not aiming to hurt any of the townsfolk…then I can definitely repent of my ire-inducing words by saying thank you. And offering to help you out here. You seem a tad lost. I know that the Muggle world can be a strange place, especially for a displaced Wizard or Witch. And if you've chosen this town then, well, who am I to displace you? Neither of us need go if we can manage to help or ignore one another peacefully."

Which, of course, was not what he had been expecting. Draco Malfoy, heir to one of the oldest pureblood families in Europe, gaped outright as Astoria only smiled. He sat back down in his shock and she let the hand go as silence fell between. Then something, a certain emotion he could only define as warm-hearted teasing, although he was utterly unfamiliar with it, passed from her to him when he failed to respond.

"I said thank you, remember, so…of course, this is when you say, 'You're welcome.'"

She said the words with the unease of one accustomed to using humor as a defense, finally uncomfortable as she retracted her hand back.

Only then, finally, did a wry smile came to his lips in an expression that didn't quite fit on his face, and Draco nodded and picked up the mug sitting before him, "you _are_ welcome. Miss Greengrass. For my efforts, my bumps and bruises and my blood spilled."

She relaxed imperceptively.

"Nicely done. Although, as I pointed out, you might wish to call me something a little more suitable for the location that we're in," she smiled wryly, "as you accidentally noticed, in Lanconshire I'm known as Tori Greene, with an 'e' on the end."

"Secrecy from the Miss Greengrass?"

"I believe that we have the same goal of anonymity in mind, is all."

"And why might you need such anonymity?"

"I'll answer that if you explain why you were running away from the city."

He sat, uncomfortable under her direct look, then slowly nodded, "touché I suppose."

"Indeed. Although running away does unfortunately cause some complications," Astoria responded absently, tapping her chin.

"What are you talking about?"

"Draco Malfoy, how much do you know about the Muggles that you've decided to live amongst?"

He gaped at her direct query, "they…don't use magic."

"Yes, and?"

"And they have a different form of currency. I made sure to exchange some of mine before I came."

"Well, that's…helpful. What else?"

The blonde's silence was answer enough and she nodded at the truth of her conclusion, "you know nothing about them, do you? Never mind, don't answer that. Well, it's a good thing that I'm here to help you through the transition. Be warned, however, if you _do_ stomach up the effort to stay permanently then we're probably going to have to summon up some official paperwork regarding schooling and work experience. We'll also probably have to create a story of how we know one another. Because the reality of an absentminded bully and sideswiped victim aren't going to cut it, particularly for the town gossips you just entertained into thinking that you're a knight in shining armor. Or worse, a beau."

"_What?_" of all the things she could have said, these startled him the most. And startlement, apparently, looked good on one with grey eyes. Kind of like a Patronus shining through. Astoria smiled. Then held out her hand for him to shake.

"Draco, maybe it's providence that you landed here. If it's that case, then I can honestly declare that it's a pleasure to re-meet you. I've needed an extra pair of hands, and I'm with Potter on the second chance bit. But we really need to get our facts in order."

He flushed crimson, "sorry." Then his surprise added more color. Maybe he himself didn't know that he was able to so comfortably apologize?

"Don't fret about it. Elsie and Hannah were in the back, and they're so old that all they have time to do is natter. It does tend to make our situation slightly more difficult, but they would have gossiped no matter what you did. So sit back down and at least be grateful that what they have to work with is positive and not negative," he did so gracefully, and slowly returned to eating. So she talked.

And immediately blew him away with her candor.

"You wanted to know why I desire anonymity? I have been placed here by the Ministry of Magic in order to monitor Death Eater activity and keep it from impacting this village a second time."

Draco gaped, "you're…what?"

"Draco," her blue-green eyes darkened, "this town was the victim of a Death Eater attack. It's why I reacted the way I did. I'm sorry for my harshness and my suspicion. I just had to know your motive for being here. And I hate to say it, but I'll have to keep a continual eye on you. No offense meant, it's just part of the job. But if you don't do anything then I won't feel the need to report you to the Ministry. As for the actual _'why' _part of my presence…"

She paused, as though hesitating to tell him the whole truth. But soon enough he could see her coming to a decision, "the castle ruins here hold some very dark magical artifacts…and some very good ones, too. When He-Voldemort's followers couldn't get at them, they took it out on some of the villagers. Now do you see why I was worried?"

Draco swallowed, "yes. Yes I do."

"Then you'll also have to understand that if I do find you up to something, anything at all, I won't hesitate to bundle you up like a Christmas gift and send you off to the authorities. Got it, Malfoy?"

~/~/~

AN: This one was a long time coming. It's actually the third version of chapter four, although it has been revamped and edited four times. I was writing it out and I realized that I liked both the harsh response and the kind response to Draco's presence. And while I initially had both responses on two separate documents I quickly realized that in order for the plot to move forward I have to have both options in the same chapter. Because while, yes, she is willing to give him a chance, she also has a job to do. And being the person that she is, she's more likely to be upfront with him about her responsibilities and the expectations then to hide her actions. Plus, which does Draco need more: more trust issues brought about by discovering her real motives after the fact, or the option of having actions versus their consequences laid before him. With the latter option he has his path clearly laid before. If he doesn't do anything wrong then they'll get along fine. If he tries to hurt anyone in 'her' town then he'll be cursed and hexed before he can say, "Potter Stinks."


End file.
